


Hope Is When We Feel The Pain (That Makes Us Try Again)

by Cassie Morgan (BADFalcon)



Category: Leverage RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:19:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5237621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BADFalcon/pseuds/Cassie%20Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christian is exhausted and has been struggling to shake off a nasty bout of stomach flu for the last couple of weeks. Being sent home from the Leverage set to recuperate and spending the weekend with Steve, he starts to feel better and is back on set the following week. </p><p>An accident filming a stunt scene reveals something that changes both his and Steve's lives forever - instantly binding them closer together yet at the same time leaving them completely estranged from each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope Is When We Feel The Pain (That Makes Us Try Again)

The second ‘cut!’ was yelled Christian exhaled heavily in relief. He pushed himself to his feet and dusted himself off, scrubbing his hands over his face and shaking through his hair, gratefully accepting the towel and water the PA handed him. Downing most of the bottle of water, he tipped the rest of it over his head, sluicing off the heat and dust, then towelling his head dry, and giving the damp towel and empty bottle back to the PA with an apology. He grabbed his blue hoodie from the back of his chair then turning on the spot and walked off. He wrapped one arm around his stomach as he fought the waves of nausea and tiredness that shook him the core, threatening to send him to his knees. He felt like shit. Again. Or was that still? He’d had some kind of bug for weeks and was just failing at shaking it off, no matter how much he dosed himself up on vitamin c. He was just starting to think about maybe needing to see a doctor, get some antibiotics or something, even if the most of it was probably fatigue. But fuck he was tired of being so damn tired all the time. Not just tired either; he was completely and utterly exhausted, falling into bed - or just plain asleep every time he sat down for too long. 

What made it even worse was that Steve, Jason, Ryan and Will were flying up this weekend for a shot - a show Christian has less than no energy to perform... but fuck if curlin’ up with Steve and just sleepin’ didn’t sound good, even if it did make him feel fuckin’ old.

Shaking his head at himself and resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he bit back a yawn, and found himself stumbling straight past his trailer - he’d get no rest there, always someone knocking on the door or barging in - and making his way around the sound stage to the McRory’s set. He’d spent the lunch break here as often as he could over the last couple of days; the sight and smell of food making him feel even more nauseous, the constant buzz aggravating his already aching head. This had become his sanctuary. Pushing the door open, he made a beeline for one of the booths at the back, sliding in to the corner, his back up against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. Perfect. Peace and quiet, warmth and comfort. Pulling his hood down over his face, he tucked his hands deep in his pockets and rested his head against the cool wall, his eyes sliding closed.

*****  
“Christian! Chris! Damnit Kane, wake up! Christian!” 

Shouts of his name and his arm being shaken dragged Christian from a deep sleep. He grunted as he woke, blinking and scrubbing his hands over his face. “What?!” He snapped, pushing his hood back from his face to meet the concerned and angry gazes of Tim and Gina. Apologising, he swung around, his legs under the table, his elbows resting on it.

“You look like shit,” Tim observed gently, sliding into the booth opposite Christian. 

“I’m fine,” Christian argued, groaning as his stomach churned and a wave of nausea passed over him. His hands tightened into fists, nails digging into his palms. 

“Yeah, looks like it,” Tim snorted and shook his head, leaning back and stretching his arms out across the back of the seat. He said nothing, just watched Christian carefully. 

“Stomach bug?” Gina asked, sitting next to Christian and passing him a bottle of water.

Christian sighed and nodded, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a long swig, grimacing at the weird metallic after-taste; the same taste he’d had for days that had wiped out the little bit of appetite he had left. “Yeah, but I’ll be fine,” he insisted, pushing himself to his feet and slipping past Gina. “I gotta pee, I’ll...” He trailed off, heaving and doubling over as his stomach cramped. Clutching his stomach, he fled past them, barely making it to the toilet in his trailer before dropping to his knees and throwing up. Rocking back on his heels, he exhaled slowly and pushed his hair out of his face. He was definitely getting fed up of throwing up. 

Standing back up, he rinsed his mouth out, scowling at his reflection. He looked worse than he felt, which was saying something. Turning to exit the bathroom, he sighed at the insistent press from his bladder - he had to pee, again. If he wasn’t throwing up, he was pissing... unless he was asleep, or so it felt. He groaned with relief as he urinated, fighting the urge to throw up again and completely unable to ignore the hammering on his trailer door. 

Snarling, he threw the door open and crossed his arms over his chest. “What?”

John simply quirked an eyebrow. “Tim’s right,” he said simply. “You look like shit. Go home and get some sleep, Kane. I don’t wanna see you back here until Monday.” And without giving Christian chance to speak, he turned and walked off. 

* * *

"You look like shit." Steve looked up from the couch as Christian stumbled through the door. 

"So I've been told," Christian growled, letting the door slam shut behind him and kicking off his boots. He crossed the room to the couch and pulled Steve tight, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. "What're you doin' here? Didn't think you were gettin' in til tomorrow night?"

"Got an earlier flight, wanted to surprise you. Got the fixings for dinner..." Steve frowned and looked over at the clock on the wall. "You're not normally back for a few hours yet." His eyes widened and his grip on Christian tightened when Christian started to sway. "Woah. Shit. Ok, Ok, I got you darlin'..." He maneuvered them back onto the couch, sitting and pulling Christian against him. "Chris?" 

"I'm fine," Christian insisted, even as he leaned heavily against Steve, head on his shoulder and eyes sliding closed. "Tired. Threw up earlier," he mumbled. "Rogers told me to fuck off 'til Monday." 

Steve ran his knuckles down the side of Christian's face, thumb brushing over his jaw. He smiled when Christian kissed his hand, reiterating that he was ok. "Good job I'm here to make sure you listen to him." He pressed a finger over Christian's lips when Christian started to protest. "I don't want you doing stuntwork if you're sick. I don't want you getting hurt. You're so fucking exhausted you're swaying where you stand, Chris. And if Rogers can see it.... I... He... You... You're not in a fit state to be fighting or being shot at or being run over by a truck or..." 

Christian snorted and pressed a kiss to Steve's forehead. "Already feel like I been run over by a truck," he admitted softly. 

Steve sighed and pulled Christian down to lay stretched out on the couch, smiling when Christian reached out for him and pillowed his head on Steve's lap. "Get some sleep," Steve murmured, running his hand through Christian's hair until Christian's breathing had evened out and Steve was happy he was asleep. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Christian's head and slid out from underneath him. He rubbed a hand over his face and tied his hair back; while Christian was sleeping, he'd make a start on dinner. Nodding to himself, humming under his breath, he started preparing dinner.

A few hours later, he crouched down next to the couch where Christian was still sound asleep. He gently shook him awake, fond smile at Christian's confused look. A quick kiss to the lips stole Christian's protests as he sat up. "You've been asleep a few hours," Steve told him, standing up. He pressed the back of his hand to Christian's forehead, pleased that he didn't appear to be feverish and laughing when Christian growled and knocked his hand away.

"I'm fine. Ain't some toddler in need of an afternoon nap!"

Steve resisted the urge to point out he was as cranky as one, instead choosing to pull Christian to his feet and into his arms, kissing him softly. "You look better for sleeping." 

Christian melted against Steve with a sigh. "Feel better for it," he admitted, albeit begrudingly. "And for this. Fuckin' missed you." He claimed Steve's lips in a kiss, his arms tight around Steve's neck. 

"Missed you too." Steve deepened the kiss, his arms around Chrisian's waist, sliding up under his shirt to feel skin; Christian pressing tighter against him, canting his hips forward. "I cooked," he murmured, pulling back slightly and running his finger across Christian's lower lip. 

Christian's hands dropped to Steve's hips, unzipping his jeans and sliding one hand inside, palming Steve and stroking him. "Haven't seen you in weeks, dinner can wait." 

Steve groaned and bucked his hips into Christian's touch. His hands tightening their grip on Christian's shoulders as Christian continued to work his growing erection. "Shit.. Chris... Baby... Stop." He reluctantly grabbed Christian's wrist and pulled his hand away, kissing him hard. "I cooked. For you. The food will go off. "You," he paused, making a show of running his eyes over Christian, lingering on the erection tenting his jeans, "won't".

"Spoilsport." He kissed Steve again, adjusting himself and grunting as his stomach cramped and his bladder decided to make itself known. Again. "K. Lemme go piss then we'll eat." 

"Thank you." Steve nodded and went back to the kitchen, dishing up and placing two beers on the table, taking a seat and waiting for Christian to return.

"Looks good," Christian said from the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame.

Steve frowned at how pale Christian looked. "Wish I could say the same about you." He pushed himself to his feet. 

"I'm fine," Christian insisted. "Just.." 

"Uh-huh. Yeah, tired." Steve sat back down again, watching Christian carefully as he crossed the room and sat opposite, taking a long drink from his beer, then pulling a face and placing the bottle back down on the table. 

"I'm fine, Steve." Christian repeated, reaching across the table and taking Steve's hand. "I just got some bug an' I can't seem to shake it off. I'm tired, I'm throwing up, my back hurts, I got no appetite and everythin' tastes a bit funny. It's been a coupla weeks and if I ain't feelin' better by Monday, I promise I'll see a doctor." His tone signalled that he conversation was over and he pressed a kiss to the palm of Steve's hand before picking his knife and fork, attention turned to the plate in front of him. The fork was halfway to his mouth when he felt his stomach roll, bile rising up the back of his throat. He dropped the fork, sending it clattering to the plate as he scraped his chair back across the tiles and bolted across the apartment to the bathroom, dropping heavily to his knees in front the toilet. 

Barely a heartbeat later, Steve was crouched down next to him. A glass of water was placed on the floor by his knee and Steve's hand was cool against the back of his neck, holding his hair back and rubbing his back soothingly. Rocking back on his heels, Christian leaned back into the solid weight of Steve, sighing when Steve's arms tightened around him, Steve murmuring that he got him. Christian rinsed his mouth out, spitting water into the bowl before slamming the lid back and flushing the toilet.

"I'm sorry darlin'" he whispered. "I didn't.. it wasn't... the smell of food..." 

Steve nodded and pulled Christian to his feet. "C'mon, lets get you into bed." 

Christian groaned. "Don't really feel like fuckin'" 

A bubble of laughter escaped Steve as he lead Christian into the bedroom, sitting him on the edge of the bed. "To sleep, Christian. You're sick. You're exhausted. You need to sleep." 

"Oh." Christian had the sense to look abashed, ducking his head. "Steve, I...." He trailed off. "I can undress myself," he scowled, batting Steve's hands away ineffectually. 

"I know you can but that doesn't mean I'm not going to do it for you. Now, get in bed and get some sleep." 

Christian sighed but slid into the bed anyway, only half-growling when Steve tucked him in, kissing his temple. He shot a hand out, fingers curling around Steve's wrist. "Stay?" 

"I'm gonna get you some water and some crackers and I'll be right back," Steve promised. By the time he came back in from the kitchen, Christian was fast asleep. An affectionate smile on his face, Steve grabbed his phone and book from his bag and slid into the bed next to Christian; Christian subconsciously curling into him. 

Christian woke several times in the night, usually soothed straight back to sleep but a few times he had to run to the bathroom. Steve was always a few steps behind him; Christian begrudgingly accepting his help, apologising to him for ruining his night. Steve had simply smiled and handed him a glass of water before sending him back to bed. When he woke properly, it was daylight and he was alone in the bed. He could hear Steve's voice faintly from the other room and padded out to find him, leaning on the doorframe when he found Steve pacing the lounge, talking on his phone. 

"I don't like it, Eric. I don't like it one bit and Kane is gonna kill me when he finds out but trust me, he is not in any fit state to get on stage. He's sick. Real sick." There was a pause and Steve sighed. "Yesterday, he was sent home from the set and told not to go back til he was better. Yeah. Yeah. I know. Some kinda stomach flu. He's throwing up all the time and he's so exhausted he can't fight it off. Yeah, he says he'll see a doc on Monday if he ain't feeling any better but I think he'll be ok if he can get enough... fuck." Steve's pacing brought him face to face with Christian. "I gotta go," he told Eric, disconnecting the call and pocketing his phone. "Chris..." 

"The fuck, Steve?" 

A muscle in Steve's jaw twitched and he exhaled slowly. "I know what you're thinking. I know what you're going to say but please, hear me out before you start shouting." He pushed his hair behind his ears. "You're sick, Christian. I've never seen you this sick. Not even when we were in England and you had food poisoning. And the fans spent the night telling me to tell you to take it easy and they were cool with you cancelling shit the next day if you had to. You weren't stumbling over in exhaustion and sleeping the best part of 16 hours then, like you just have. I'm worried about you and if I gotta go behind your back and cancel tomorrow night’s show so I can make sure you rest, then that's what I gotta do."

Christian sagged against the door frame. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and glared at Steve, arms crossed over his chest. "I know. I don't like it but..." He turned and walked into the kitchen. Pouring himself a glass of juice and popping two slices of bread into the toaster, he studiously ignored Steve, huffing when Steve stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around him, chin resting on Christian's shoulder.

"I'm not gonna apologise. I'm not sorry. I know you're pissed but I'm not apologising for caring about you, for being worried about you." Steve pressed a kiss to Christian's jaw. 

Christian sighed and relaxed back into Steve's hold. "I know. An' you shouldn't. An' you're right."

"I'm right?" Steve echoed in disbelief, running his knuckles down Christian's face. "Can I get that in writing?" 

Christian chuckled and shook his head, grabbing his toast as it popped out of the toaster. "Better stay down," he muttered. "I'm starvin'. You comin' back to bed?" 

Steve nodded and poured himself a fresh mug of coffee. "Yeah, ok." He tangled his fingers with Christian's and lead him back to the bedroom, both men sliding on top the covers; Christian tentatively nibbling at his toast, relief plain on his face when his stomach didn't rebel "You're looking a bit better," 

"Startin' to feel it. Sorry for ruinin' your weekend."

"It's not ruined. I'm still getting to spend it with you." 

"Sap. This ain't how I planned on spendin' a weekend in bed with you." Christian curled up against Steve, head resting on his shoulder, breathing slowly evening out as he fell asleep again; Steve's fingers running through his hair. 

The rest of the weekend continued in much the same fashion; Christian alternating between sleeping and vomiting, though as the days passed, he was both sleeping and vomiting less. Sunday morning found him feeling brighter, waking curled up tightly around Steve, his erection pressing insistently against Steve's thigh. He rocked forward, groaning when Steve, still asleep, wriggled back against him with a breathy moan; Christian's cock slipped between Steve's thighs, growing harder and Christian whined. Rolling onto his back, Christian stretched out with a sigh; yeah, he felt much better this morning. But, he decided, nose wrinkled, he needed to shower before anything else.

"I'll be right back, darlin'" He pressed a kiss to the back of Steve's shoulder and slipped out of bed and across the room into the en-suite. Quickly showering, then towelling himself off before brushing his teeth and swilling his mouth out with mouthwash. He stretched his arms over his head, scowling as he caught a glimpse of his reflection - how had he put weight on when he'd spent the last week throwing up? He scowled and ran his hands through his hair, pulling it back into a loose ponytail before making his way back to join Steve in the bed, rolling him onto his back, kneeling over him and kissing him awake. 

Steve woke with a smile on his face, looping his hands around Christian's neck. "Hi," he murmured against Christian's lips, swiping his tongue over them. "Guess you're feeling better."

"Guess I am." Christian deepened the kiss, tangling his hands in Steve's hair as he teased his tongue. "An' this is much more like how I'd planned on spendin' time in bed with you." He sucked on Steve's lower lip, sliding down the bed to press their cocks against each other, rubbing against him; Steve groaning and rocking up, capturing Christian's lips for another kiss. Christian broke the kiss, licking and sucking his way down Steve's throat before dragging his teeth back up Steve's neck to nip at his earlobe. "I want you to fuck me." 

Growling, Steve rolled them over, making Christian grunt with the impact of his back hitting the mattress. "I like how you think." He knelt between Christian's bent knees, parting them a little further, blowing a soft breath over Christian's dark, hard, cock making him gasp out loud. His tongue flickered out, lapping at the very tip then licking a single stripe along the underside, Christian gasping his name. "God, I love how you go all flush with arousal. Look at you, Chris - your skin's all dark pink and your cock and nipples so red. Darker than normal. Fuck you want me bad." A shudder of lust ran through him and he reached up, flicking Christian's nipples.

Christian whined and arched his chest up, hands grasping at Steve's shoulders. "Steve..." 

"You gonna beg me baby, or you just gonna give me the lube so I can fuck you so hard you're gonna walk funny the rest of the week?" 

"Both work for me." Christian grabbed the lube from the bedside cabinet and passed it to Steve, rolling his hips up. "Just so long as you get on with fuckin' me." 

Steve growled in the back of his throat, slicking up one finger and slowly easing it into Christian until Christian was bearing down, demanding more. Chuckling, Steve obliged, adding a second finger, lazily dragging them in and out until resistance eased and he was able to fuck Christian with his fingers, crooking them to graze over and over his prostate.

"Fuck!" Christian's legs fell further apart and he bucked and thrust, fingers tightening their hold on Steve's shoulder enough to bruise. "Stevie..." He swallowed hard, cock growing even harder and smearing pre-come across his belly; Steve's cock brushing against his thigh leaving its own sticky trail. "More. Your fingers ain't enough. Want your cock in me Steve. Please, just fuck me!" 

"When you put it like that..." Steve changed position on the bed, kneeling up and slicking his cock. His hands slid over Christian's hips as he slid his cock inside Christian, both men moaning; Christian biting down on his lower lip as he wrapped his ankles around Steve's waist, urging him on, harder, faster, more. "Fuckin... Chris..." 

Arching his back, Christian dragged Steve down to kiss him, tongue parting his lips, fucking his mouth as Steve fucked into him. Biting at each others lips, fingers dug into arousal-flushed skin, Steve thrusting and Christian bucking they rocked against each other until Steve threw his head back, orgasming with a low, long cry. Christian followed him moments later, come coating both their belly's and Christian slumped back down against the mattress, Steve dropping on top of him, cock slipping from his ass. 

"Jesus, fuck..." Christian rolled them over, laying on top of Steve as he reached over to the cabinet and grabbed the box of tissues. He quickly cleaned them off, kissing Steve slowly and gently, knuckles stroking down his face. "Steve..." 

"Yeah..." Steve arched his back, nuzzling at Christian's jaw before pushing him away. "Off. Heavy." 

"Last of the great romantics," Christian snorted, stretching out next to Steve, head resting on his chest.

Steve wrapped his arms around Christian, kissing the top of his head. "Not my fault you're putting weight on." He laughed at the pout on Christian's face, running his fingers across Christian's lips. "Don't pout, I'm just sayin'" 

"I need to get back to the gym and watch what I eat," Christian tensed in Steve's arm, sighing and squeezing his eyes shut; it wasn't just him then, he was getting fat.

"Hey, hey..." Steve tipped Christian's chin up and kissed him softly. "I'm only teasing, you know that, right?" 

"Yeah. No, you're right. I'm gettin' fat. Need to start workin' out again. I still don't know how I'm puttin' weight on when I spent the last few weeks feelin' sick and throwin' up."

"Last. Few. Weeks?!" Steve sat up straight, dragging Christian with him. "Christian... What do you mean 'last few weeks'?" He cupped Christian's face in his hands, staring into his eyes. "No, you don't, Kane. You're gonna talk to me." 

Christian knocked Steve's hands away with an annoyed growl. "I'm fine," he insisted. "It's just... Steve, stop worryin. I just ain't been able to shake off this bug but it ain't been this bad til now. I think I just needed to rest. I feel fine now. I was just exhausted. Now lay back down so we can sleep." 

Steve tapped a hand on the inside of his thigh before siging and nodding. "Yeah, OK. Sorry." He lay back down, pulling Christian against him. "I worry about you." 

"I know." Christian pressed a kiss to Steve's lips. "I love you." 

"I love you too." They fell into companionable silence, floating comfortably between sleep and awake; Steve laying on his back with Christian pressed against his side, head on his chest and Steve's arms around him. "Hey, Chris... you'd tell me if you were pregnant, right?" Steve asked softly, punctuating the question with a yawn.

Christian snorted with laughter, slapping Steve's shoulder. "Shut the fuck up and go to sleep, Carlson." 

* * *

"Christian, can I have a word?" 

Christian looked up at Gina and folded his script up, stuffing it into his pocket. "Sure." He patted the seat next to him, frowning when Gina didn't sit, instead shaking her head. "Gina?"

"Not here," she looked around furtively, before turning on her heel. "Follow me." 

Tipping his head to the side in confusion, Christian pushed himself up and followed Gina across the set and into McRory's. She lead him to the booth he'd been sitting in last week and gestured for him to sit down opposite her.

"I need to you ask you something," Gina reached across the table, patting Christian's arm gently, "but before I do, you have to promise me you're not going to kill me or anything."

Christian stared at Gina, his eyes wide. "Gina, I..."

"Promise me," she insisted.

"I... promise not to kill you or anything," Christian nodded. 

"Are you pregnant, Christian?" 

Christian continued to stare wide-eyed at Gina, his lips parted but no sound coming out. His hair fell in front of his eyes but he made no move to push it back. Licking his lips, he started to speak but no words came out.

"You don't need to be embarrassed, Christian. It's OK." Gina took Christian's hands in her own, holding them tightly. "I know male pregnancy isn't exactly the most... ah... masculine event and I can see why you would be uncomfortable, but it's not as rare an occurrence as it used to be. We'll all be here for you - me, Tim, Gina, Beth, Aldis, Nadine... everyone - you know that. How far along are you? Do you want a girl or a boy." She paused, biting her lip. "What does Steve think? Oh, you have told him, haven't you?" 

"Pregnant?" Christian chuckled, shaking his head. "Gina, I'm not... I'm not..." He trailed off, laughing harder. Pulling his hands away from Gina's grasp, he pushed his hair out of his face before scrubbing his palms over his face. His shoulders shook and he was unable to contain his laughter; laughing until he had tears running down his face and he's buried his face in his arms on the table. "Gina, darlin, no. I'm not pregnant, I swear to you." He coughed to clear his throat, still barely keeping himself from laughing, pressing his lips together at the confused look on Gina's face. "Steve put you up to this, didn't he?" 

"Steve... what... no..." Gina shook her head in confusion. "Put me up to this?" 

"Last night, Steve decided I was pregnant. That the reason I was tired all the time and throwin' up was morning sickness and cos I've put weight on, so he said I was pregnant... wait, you're sayin' he didn't put you up to this?"

"No he didn't. I haven't spoken to Steve in a couple of weeks. I'm serious, here Christian, and Steve... well, he might just have a point." She raised a hand when Christian started to argue. "Hear me out, please. You're tired all the time, you're feeling nauseous, you're urinating more often, nothing tastes quite right. You want more sex than normal and everything's a little more sensitive..." Gina trailed off, blushing. 

"Gina..." Christian shifted uncomfortably on the seat, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Am I missing anything?" 

"No," he admitted, with a scowl.

Gina sighed. "It really does sound like you're pregnant," she said as gently as possible. "I know, I've been there, remember? And you helped me through it, on the bad days, with those amazing sandwiches." She smiled when Christian's lips twitched. "Even if you're not pregnant, and you do have some nasty virus, will you at least go to the doctors and get checked out. For me?" 

"Motherhood's turned you into even more of a mother hen," Christian groused. "I'm fine. I was workin' too hard, didn't rest when I got sick and it got the better of me. I spent the last few days in bed, asleep, resting and I promise I've fought the bug off and I'm OK. But yes, if I started feelin' sick again, I promise I'll see a doctor, ok?"

"OK," Gina nodded, squeezing Christian's arm. "Thank you." 

* * *

Christian stretched his arms over his head as he walked onto the set, groaning as his back popped. He shook his hands out, rolling his neck then jogging on the spot as he watched the scene being set up. Adrenalin was coursing through his system and he was almost bouncing in place when John appeared at his elbow.

"Anyone would think you're looking forward to this."

Christian chuckled and grinned. "Getting hit by a car's always fun," he shot back, making John roll his eyes and shake his head. "And hey, it's a pretty easy stunt and we've rehearsed it enough this week. Gonna be awesome, stop worrying. I just gotta jump up and roll onto the hood, piece of cake. Done it in my sleep enough times when I was younger." 

"That's what worries me," came John's dry reply. "Don't end up in the hospital," he warned, walking back to his seat behind the cameras and letting Christian continue stretching. "Ready?" 

Christian's grin widened and he stretched one last time before stilling, pushing his hair back out of his face. "Ready." 

The set was abuzz with activity around Christian; lighting, sound and cameras setting up, crashmats in place, hair and make-up fixing him and the driver backing the car away. Stillness fell just as quickly, the atmosphere vibrating in anticipation. 

"Action!" 

"No, you need to listen to me, Nate." Christian paced back and forth. "They're not professionals. They're too stupid to know when they're beaten and they're going to keep comin' until they get the order to stop. You need to make Johnson call them off before someone gets hurt. Before..." He trailed off, trying to keep the grin from his face as he found his mark, mentally counting the beats as the car started to accelerate towards him. "That's what I'm tryin' to tell you," he insisted, voice dropping. "I don't think Sterling... Speak of the devil," he growled, spinning to face 'Sterling' as Mark strolled onto his mark, hands tucked in his pockets. 

"Hello, Eliot."

"Sterling, what do you..." Christian frowned as Mark took a step back, running his eyes closely over him, then taking in the scene around them, the stunt that was being prepared. 

"Are you all bloody idiots!?" Mark turned to face John, aghast, his arms spread wide. "Why the hell is he doing stuntwork?" He gestured at Christian, his eyes widening at the confused looks that met him from everyone around. "Seriously... are you all... can none of you see the man is pregnant?!" 

A collective gasp rippled around them, everyone turning to look at either Christian or Mark. 

"The fuck?" Christian snorted, also turning to look at Mark, hands on his hips. “I ain’t pregnant! What the hell are you talking about? I ain't listenin' to this, we got... fuck!" He He realised too late he’d lost track of the stunt car, the timing of the scene and turned in time to see the car bearing down on them. The driver realised too late that Christian was distracted and was starting to correct. Christian shoved Mark hard, sending him spinning out of the way of the now-skidding car but was unable to get out of the way himself; the car slamming into him. He bounced onto the hood, hitting the windshield then rolling back, falling hard down onto the ground, cracking his head then falling still. 

* * *

Christian groaned, his whole body aching as he shifted position. Without opening his eyes, he already knew he was in the hospital; there was a worried buzzing of voices around him he wasn't quite coherent enough to understand, the regular beeping and hissing of machines and the antiseptic smell making his stomach heave. His left wrist was broken, he could feel it, and possibly a couple ribs but he couldn't be sure without looking. His knee was throbbing, his head pounding and his stomach... 

"Fuck..." 

His breath caught in his chest, his eyes flying open and all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball, arms wrapped protectively around his belly. It was cramping and it hurt, holy fuck it hurt like nothing he'd ever felt before, cramping straight down his stomach, feeling like his entire insides were trying to escape. He gasped and arched up, panting for breath. The buzz around him seemed to grow increasingly more frantic and panic crashed through him. Warm hands and gentle voices eased him back down on the bed, but not before he saw the white sheets turning red with blood before he sank back down into the darkness. 

*****  
The next time Christian woke he was floating, relaxed, under a haze of painkillers. His right hand was held in a tight grip, fingers stroking the back of it and there was a buzz of conversation floating around him. Snippets, words, drifted around him but made no sense. A hand on his shoulder, a familiar voice telling him how sorry he was. There were other voices, women's voices, talking about babies and pregnancies and stunt work, asking why and almost sounding accusatory. He must have made a noise of some kind because there was a gasp before the voices stopped and someone said "This isn't the place". There were more apologies, more gentle touches to his shoulder and kisses to his temple followed by the opening and closing of a door before it was quiet. 

"Sleep, Chris," said the hand holding his, and it seemed like a really good idea so he let himself sink back down, the painkillers pulling him under. 

*****

"I'm not going to ask you how you feel or anything like that, because I know the answer and it's pretty shitty. I also know you're pretty out of it on the good drugs, and you probably won't remember me sayin this next time you wake up." Mark laughed self-deprecatingly. "And if I'm honest, that's the only reason I can say this."

Christian grunted in reply, trying to get his eyes to focus, but Mark remained a blur at his bedside. "What..."

"Easy, Chris, easy. Don't try and talk. You need to rest." Mark rested his hand lightly on Christian's forearm, smiling as Christian stilled, his eyes still open. "You saved me this afternoon. I fucked up. I'm sorry, and thank you. "

"Yeah." 

"And..." Mark took a deep breath before continuing. "This... this isn't easy but if you want or need to talk to anyone about what's happened, just call me, ok? I miscarried twice before Jessica got pregnant with Max so I've been there and I know what you're going through. 

Christian's only reply was a soft snore as he slept, and Mark left the room silently. 

*****

Christian groaned as he woke, his whole body aching as he started to stretch, stilling when it became obvious it was too painful a movement. He bit his lip, lifting his hand to his face and grunting at the spasm of pain; his wrist encased in a pristine white cast. His other hand was held tightly by Steve, who was dozing in the chair next to him. From the feel of things he had a couple of broken ribs as well and he felt bruised from head to toe, one of his knees throbbing in time with his pulse. His head pounded and his stomach felt... not right. Another whimper of pain escaped him and he unconsciously squeezed Steve's hand; Steve jolted awake with a gasp.

Turning his head to one side, Christian watched as Steve woke up and looked around the room in confusion before his eyes landed on Christian; face lighting up when he realised Christian was awake. 

"Hey," Christian croaked, lips curving up in a smile, a grunt slipping out as Steve all but launched himself out of the chair and he wrapped his arms tightly around Christian, kissing him softly. "Ste..."

"Don't do that to me again," Steve begged, cupping Christian's face in his hands and kissing him again. "Don't you ever do that to me again. Chris..." He sank back down into the chair, his face pale. 

"I won't," Christian lifted their joined hands to his lips, kissing Steve's fingertips. "I promise." 

Steve nodded and swallowed heavily and Christian pretended he didn't see him wipe away tears. "How... um... how do you feel?"

Christian snorted. "Like I got run over by a truck. What..." he licked his lips and Steve handed him a glass of water, helping him sit up, arm around his shoulders, then settling him back down against the pillows. "What the fuck happened?" 

A burst of laughter escaped Steve. "You were run over, but not by a truck." 

"The stunt car," Christian winced then his eyes shot open again. "Mark! Is he..." 

"Mark's fine, just a bit bruised. You... you took the full impact, gave us all quite a scare. You've been out of it nearly two days." 

"I broke my wrist." Christian lifted the offending arm up, showing Steve the cast and hissing as his shoulder twinged. "And my shoulder hurts." 

"Yeah, you basically landed on that arm. Broke your wrist, pulled a something-or-other in your shoulder, bruised it and scraped the whole arm. Um... you broke a couple ribs, fractured your kneecap and you hit your head pretty bad, kinda thwacked your brain a little." 

"Oh." Christian bit back a yawn. He had a nagging sensation there was something else, something Steve wasn’t telling him. "And?" he prompted. "What aren't you tellin' me, Stevie?" 

Steve scratched the back of his neck. "Um, your parents are here. They're back at the apartment; Tim took them there a couple hours ago."

"My mama's here? Is she..."

"Worried sick."

"Shit." Christian yawned again, his eyelids starting to slide closed again. 

"Sleep, Chris." Steve squeezed Christian's hand gently. "I'll still be here when you wake up again," but Christian was already asleep. 

*****

"It's not my fault!" 

Christian stirred at the shouting, lifting his non-injured hand to his thumping head, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead and rubbing gently. He pushed himself half upright, slumping back against the pillows; unnoticed as his mama and Steve continued arguing. 

"You're supposed to look after him!" his mama snapped. "You promised me you would look after him and he ends up in this place. Again." 

"I can't exactly wrap him in bubble wrap!" Steve shot back in exasperation, pacing back and forth. "And stunt work is part of his job!"

"His job?! What were you thinking, Steve, letting him do stunt work in his condition?" 

"I didn't know!" Steve came to a stop, staring out of the window, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "I asked him, once, but he told me to fu... to uh..." 

"And you just left it?" She moved to stand next to Steve. 

Steve shrugged. "And accuse him of lying to me?" He snorted. "He said he wasn't and I believed him. I don't think he knew himself." Steve finished quietly. 

"I didn't know what? I said I wasn't what?" Christian asked quietly. "What are you two fightin' about?" He almost laughed at the comical way his mama and Steve both rushed across the room, one either side of him; Steve taking his hand, his mama's hands going to his forehead and stomach as she asked him how he was feeling. "I'm fine," he growled, brushing their hands and concern away. "What's goin' on? What are you fightin' about?" He looked from Steve to his mama and back again, another frustrated sound escaping him when neither of them answered. "Mama. Steve. You never fight. What's goin' on? And don't say it's nothin' when it's clearly somethin'. Mama, what are you blamin' Steve for?"

"For you still doing stunt work," Steve muttered, refusing to look at Christian. He sighed and sat down heavily in the chair. "The other week, when you had that stomach bug and I asked you if you were pregnant..." he trailed off, looking up and meeting Christian's confused gaze.”Chris, why didn't you tell me that you were?" 

Christian snorted and shook his head. "I ain't pregnant, Steve." 

"Chris..." 

"Oh, Christian." His mama spoke at the same time as Steve, sitting on the edge of the bed. She took his hand, holding it between both of hers. "Christian, there's something you need to know and there's no easy way to say this so I'm just going to go right ahead and tell you." 

"Mama?"

"You were pregnant, Christian." 

“Why would you say somethin’ like that, Mama? That's crazy! I think I'd know if I was pregnant”, he scoffed and started to laugh. “That ain’t even funny. Stevie, do you hear this crazy talk? Come on, really.” But his laughter died out moments later when he realised neither his mama or Steve were laughing along with him. A nervous choked noise escaped him and he bit his lips. “You’re not... you mean... Mama... Steve... I'm... I'm pregnant?" Steve squeezed his arm and opened his mouth to reply but Christian continued. “What aren't y'all tellin’ me?” He asked softly, frowning as he looked between his mama and Steve. “Mama? Stevie? C’mon, you’re worryin’ me here.”

"You... you were like ten weeks pregnant but... the accident..." Steve said softly, his voice thick and his eyes shining with tears. "You lost it. The baby... it’s... Chris, you had a miscarriage." 

 

* * *

"I'm not hungry." Christian scowled and pulled the blanket tighter around him. He lay his head back down and closed his eyes, ignoring Steve.

"You need to eat." Steve placed the plate on the table and, lifting Christian's head up, sat down with Christian's head on his lap. He gently ran his fingers along Christian's hairline. "Christian... please..." 

"I said I'm not hungry." Christian pulled away from Steve, climbing off the couch and wrapping his blanket around him. He stalked through the apartment, blanket dragging along behind him, and flung the balcony door open, leaning over the railing. 

"Chris..." Steve swallowed heavily and stepped up behind him. He wrapped his arms around Christian's waist, chin resting on his shoulder. Christian tensed, then moaned and relaxed back against Steve with a shudder. Steve sighed and tightened his hold on Christian. They stood there silently, until Steve realising Christian was trembling. "Chris..." He turned Christian around in his arms, wiping his tears and kissing him gently. "C'mon, baby, let’s get you, back inside." He winced, swearing under his breath at his choice in words but Christian didn't seem to have noticed, following pliantly when Steve lead him back in and sat him down on the couch. "Eat," Steve urged, relieved when Christian mechanically ate the sandwich. 

"Thanks." Christian wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders, broken wrist cradled against his chest. "I'm gonna go to bed." He turned, without waiting for a response, and walked into their bedroom, laying down on the covers, knees to his chest and eyes closed. 

Steve sighed, flinching as the bedroom door closed between them. He sank back down on the couch, a pained noise escaping him. He buried his head in his hands, shoulders shaking hard as he cried. He cried until he had no tears left, his head pounded and his eyes ached, then exhaled slowly, his head falling back against the back of couch. It had been like this all week, since Christian had come home from the hospital. Christian was pulling further and further away from him, physically and emotionally, almost like he was avoiding Steve, avoiding talking to him, avoiding touching him, avoiding being alone with him. And yes, he knew Christian was hurting and that this, withdrawing, was Christian's way of healing but damnit he was hurting too, he'd also lost the child he didn't know they'd been expecting and... and... and what? And he'd just like someone, even just once, to ask him if he was OK. He'd just like Christian to ask him if he was OK. He swallowed heavily, a low sob erupting from him. Guilt warred with his grief and, hating himself, he pushed up from the couch, needing to move. He shoved his hands through his hair and paced around the room, his thoughts chasing their own tail around his head until he found himself grabbing a bottle of Jack from the cupboard, unscrewing the lid and taking a long drink. He exhaled slowly, savouring the burn as it slid down his throat, almost relieved to be feeling something. Angrily swiping the tears from his face, he sank back down on the couch and kicked his feet up on the table, grabbing the remote and switching the tv on, aimlessly channel surfing, just to have some background noise while he drank and tried to forget about every-fucking-thing that had happened in the last few days. 

How long he sat there, he didn't know, but it was getting light when he stirred, a quiet noise from the doorway disturbing him. He looked up to find Christian, still with that fucking blanket wrapped around him, standing there, leaning against the wall. 

"Hey," Christian greeted him quietly and Steve didn't reply, instead looking away. "Can I..." Christian gestured at the couch and Steve shrugged, missing the look of puzzlement that crossed Christian's face. Christian didn't move from the doorway, biting his lips. "Steve... I... we... Can..." 

"What?" 

A tremor wracked Christian and he fought the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. "I need... you," he stuttered. "Steve, please..." The tears ran down his face and he seemed to shrink where he stood. 

Steve snorted but still didn't move from where he lay. "Oh, you need me now? After you shut me out for almost a week?" 

"I... what? Stevie, I... I can't..." 

"Just spit it out, Kane!" Steve snapped, throwing one arm over his face. 

Christian visibly flinched, taking a shuddery breath. "I thought I could do this, but I can't. And you... Can we talk, Steve, please?" 

Steve sat up and looked at Christian. "And what about when I wanted to talk? I've been trying to talk to you all week, trying to get you to talk to me but you've just bottled up and hidden away from me. I know you're hurting Christian but... But so am I damnit! You're not the only one who's lost a child. That was my child too!"

"What?" Christian's back straightened and he squared his shoulders. He stalked across the room to stand at the foot of the couch. "You think have you the slightest fucking idea how much I'm hurtin’? You think you can know what I've been goin’ through? You didn't have to go through what I went through, Steve. You're not the one who fucking lost our baby!" 

"I know that!" Steve stood, drawing himself to his full height. "I know that. I can never know what you went through, what you're going through especially since you're not letting me. But I do know what it was like to sit there and watch you go through it, knowing there was nothing I could do, worrying myself to fucking death about you. So don't you try and tell me I'm not going through this too!" 

"That ain't the same thing!"

"No, it's not the same. I got that Chris. I get that. But do you know what I don't get? You, acting like this, like you give a shit about the fact you lost that baby when we both know you didn't fucking want it in the first place!" 

Christian stared at Steve in open-mouthed shock. "I... You... What?" 

"Oh come off it, Christian. You wouldn't have been doing stunt work if you wanted the kid." 

"I didn't know I was pregnant!" Christian yelled, sinking down onto the couch, his head in his hands. He looked up at Steve, tears tracking down his pale face. "I didn't know. Steve, I..." He hiccuped softly, trying to control his breathing. "I didn't... I didn't know. You... and Gina... and Mark... but I didn't... I didn't know. I didn't know," he repeated, voice pleading. He reached out for Steve, face falling when Steve stepped back. "How could I not know, Steve? There was a baby, our baby, growin' inside me and... I didn't know. I don't understand. How did I not know I was pregnant?" 

"I've been wondering that myself," Steve growled and walked out of the room, out of the apartment, slamming the front door behind him. 

* * *

Steve exhaled heavily as he stepped out into the early morning rain, swiping angrily at his tears. Running a hand over his face, he swore under his breath - he didn't even have his car keys, just his phone and his wallet. And he was in Portland, so what the fuck did he do now? If they were in LA, there'd be plenty of people he could ring, but here? He scrolled through his phone contacts.

"Aldis, hey." Steve tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he sat down on a small brick wall. "I need a favour. Can you... can you come pick me up?" He winced at how desperate he sounded. "Yeah, I'm at m... Chris' place. It's a long story." He paused and licked his lips. "I'll explain later. No, I... uh... don't know what time it.. shit, I'm sorry." He exhaled softly as he could hear Aldis grabbing his keys. "Ok, thanks, I'll see you in a few minutes. And Aldis? Thanks, man." He hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on his thigh, foot tapping out the same beat. 

Relief crashed through him a few minutes later when Aldis pulled up. He climbed into the passenger seat, shivering from the cold and damp. "Thanks." 

"Let me guess. You got drunk, you and Chris had a fight. Either he threw you out or you stormed out and now you want to hide at mine, sober up and lick your wounds?" Aldis pulled away, driving back to his apartment. 

Steve sighed. "Pretty much, yeah." 

Aldis shook his head. "Man, what is wrong with you, Steve? After everything that's happened this last week, Chris needs you. He needs you to be home. Not drunk or hiding out at my place or..."

"You think I don't know that"? Steve snapped, choking back a sob. "I..."

"No. No I do not think you know that. Because if you knew it, you'd be sober and you'd be in there with Chris, not sitting here in my car, begging me to let you crash on my couch and sleep off a hangover!" He pulled into the garage and turned the engine off, turning in his seat to look at Steve. "You hear what I'm saying?"

"Aldis, please, just listen..."

"No, you listen to me. In case you missed it, Steve, Christian had a miscarriage. He lost the baby he was carrying. Now, I cannot claim to know what he's going through right now, none of us can, but what I do know is Christian. I know Christian and I know he's gotta be hurting right now and he needs you even if he isn't showing it or saying it." 

Steve bit his lip, barely resisting the urge to yell at Aldis that he'd lost a child as well, instead choosing to hold his tongue and nod.

"OK. I just needed..." Aldis exhaled slowly as he climbed out the car; Steve following him into the apartment. "Couch is there. Coffee's in the kitchen. I'll get you some blankets and pillows. But I want you out of here by noon." He threw the blankets at Steve, turning and walking away, signalling the end of the conversation. 

* * *

"Are you OK"? Steve looked up at the little girl standing in front of him, ice-cream cone in her hand, staring at him.

"I'm OK," Steve reassured the little girl with a weak smile

"You look sad."

"Annie!" The little girl's mother appeared from behind her to take her hand. "What have I told you about talking to strangers?"

"Sorry mommy, but he looked sad and I wanted to see if he was ok."

"I'm sorry if she disturbed you," Annie's mom said to Steve, followed a few beats later by "She's right, you do look sad." She sent Annie back to the playarea and sat down next to Steve, a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you sure you're OK?"

Touched by the kindness of a stranger, coupled with his hangover, his grief, his tiredness and everything that had happened to him over the last week, Steve found himself starting to cry. His face crumpled and he curled over, sobbing softly, his shoulders shaking. The woman stayed next to him, rubbing his back gently, murmuring wordless reassurances. "I'm sorry," Steve gulped in air as he straightened up again, rubbing his face and tucking his hair behind his ears. "I'm sorry, I..." 

"It's ok," she smiled back at him. "I'm Gloria."

"Steve," he smiled weakly. "Thank you, Gloria."

"You... want to maybe talk about it? I'm going to be here a while and you look like you could use a friendly ear." 

"Thank you. Again." Fresh tears ran down Steve's face but he ignored them, instead choosing to take a deep breath and lean back against the bench, watching the children playing. He was silent for long moments. "I found out last week I was going to be a father," he said softly. 

Gloria frowned. "That's usually a good thing, so I'm guessing there's something more?"

Steve barked out a humourless laugh. "I found out as my partner was having a miscarriage." 

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," Gloria swallowed around the lump in her throat, feeling her own eyes well with tears. She grabbed Steve's hand and squeezed it tightly, itching to just pull him into a hug and never let go. "I'm so sorry, Steve." 

"He was ten weeks pregnant and we didn't know. A couple of our friends suspected, some of them even asked but he said no. He didn't know until he lost it. He... he was hit by a car." 

"You don't have to say anything else if you don't want to," Gloria hastened to reassure him. "I can't imagine how much you must be hurting." 

Steve tilted his head back, staring up at the sky. "You're the only person who's said that to me. It's been over a week and you're the only person who's acknowledged that I'm hurting too, that I've also lost a child. I know... I know I'm not hurting like Chris is, and I know what I'm feeling isn't even close to what he's going through, but no-one's bothered to ask me how I am." 

"And that's why you're sitting out here."

"Yeah. Me and Chris, we had a huge fight last night. I was drunk. We both said shit... uh... stuff we didn't mean." Steve exhaled shakily. "I was a complete jerk, the things I said to him. And now I'm trying to... to... get myself together enough to go home and face him." 

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is."

"No," Steve agreed. "It's worse. He'd... he'd pulled away from me, wasn't talking to me, wouldn't touch me, wouldn't even be in the same room with me. And I know that he was hurting and healing and needed space so I gave him it but I was hurting too and I got drunk. But he chose that night to reach out to me, to talk to me and I pushed him away. I... I basically blamed him for losing the baby, accused him of not taking care because he didn't want it. We've never even talked about kids before and I... I didn't know I wanted one til it was too late and I don't know what the fuck he thought, what he thinks but I told him it was his fault." He covered his face with his hands again and shook his head. "Gloria I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... to unload on you like that. I'm so sorry." Steve turned to face her and she took both of his hands in hers. 

"I think you needed someone to talk to, sweetie, and I'm glad I could help. Are you going to be OK?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know." He pushed his hair into a loose ponytail, tying it back. "Seriously though, Gloria, thank you. Will you let me take you and Annie out for a drink, or ice-cream or a meal or something someday? I'll give you my cellphone number..."

"Steve, sweetie, breathe. Like I said, I'm glad I could help and God only knows it's easier to talk to a stranger. Now, you get yourself home and go talk to your Chris, see if you can't sort things out between you."

* * *

"Chris?" Steve kicked the door shut behind him, frowning at how quiet the apartment was. "Christian?" There was still no reply and worry started gnawing at Steve's gut. "Chris?" He pushed the lounge door open and found Christian curled up on the couch, blanket tucked loosely around him and his wrist cradled to his chest. Flicking on the light switch, Steve crossed the room, a flicker of guilt crashing through him as Christian stirred, clearing having just woken up. Steve swore under his breath; Christian hadn't been sleeping well since... since the accident. 

"What do you want?" Christian asked tiredly, pushing himself awkwardly to a sitting position. 

"I'm sorry, Chris." Steve sat down on the couch next to Christian, turning to face him. "To talk. To apologise. I... we..."

Christian snorted and shook his head. "Because that worked so well last night when I was in a mess and wanting to talk," he shot back dryly.

Steve flinched. "Ok, I deserved that. I'm sorry. I was a drunken mess last night."

"You don't say. Sure you're sober enough to cope now?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Chris, what I said... when I said... I was drunk, I didn't know what I was saying. I didn't mean it."

"We both know you're brutally honest when you're drunk, Steve. You always tell the truth." 

"Yeah," he agreed. "I do. I'm sorry. And I know those two words don't make up for it or lessen what I said, and in hindsight, it's not what I meant. I've... thought about it a lot. I haven't thought about anything else, I haven't stopped thinking about... " He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Christian, I'm so fucking sorry I accused you of not wanting the baby, of losing it on purpose. I had no right to say that. Fuck, we've never even talked about kids, so I don't know if you wanted... want... one or not. I know it's no excuse but I was angry and hurt and I lashed out and I'm sorry. And I'll keep saying how sorry I am until I can think of a more adequate phrase or.. "

Christian shook his head. He stood up and stepped away from the couch, turning his back on Steve. "You were hurt? I had a fucking miscarriage, Steve! I lost my baby. And I wanted... I needed to talk to you and you pushed me away when I needed you the most. You got drunk and then you left and now you think 'I'm sorry' is going to make up for it?" 

"You're not the only one who lost a baby. That was my baby too!" Steve paused and shot up, grabbing Christian's shoulder and spinning him around. "That was my baby, wasn't it?" His eyes narrowed. "Is that... That's why you've not bothered to ask me how I’m feeling, isn't it? Because it wasn’t my baby.” 

"What?" Christian's eyes widened and he drew his fist back, stopping himself before landing the punch. "How dare you, Steve? How fuckin... Of course it was yours! How could you even... fuck you, Carlson!" He slammed both of his hands into Steve's chest, shoving him backwards. 

Steve stumbled, the backs of his knees hitting the couch and he fell down on it heavily. He pressed his lips together and inhaled deeply through his nose. "This... I'm sorry," he said uselessly, playing with the bracelets around his wrist. "This isn't... I can't..." He pushed himself upright and turned to leave the room. "I can't... I think we both need some time, some space... I'm just gonna grab my things..." A low, pained moan stopped him and he straightened his back before turning round in time to see Christian sink to his knees, tears streaming down his face, his hands opening and closing into fists on his thighs.

"Don't go," Christian begged. "Steve, please... don't leave me, Stevie. I can't... I can't do this without you. I've lost enough. I can't lose you too. I'm sorry. Stay, please stay. Steve..." He trailed off, face crumpling. "You don't think I feel guilty enough about losing the baby? I can't live knowing I've driven you away as well."

"Chris..." Steve took a half-step forward, concern and anger warring inside him and he bit his lip in uncertainty.

"I'm sorry." Christian looked up at Steve through his tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so fuckin' sorry, Steve. You have to be believe me, I didn't know I was pregnant. I swear I didn't know. I didn't mean to... to... I'm sorry... I'm sorry I killed our baby," he choked back a sob, dropping his head back down.

As Christian spoke, Steve found himself crossing the room and dropping to the floor in front of Christian. Pulling him into his arms he held him tightly. "I know, I know. I know it wasn't on purpose and I'm sorry I accused you of it. I know you didn't know." 

"If I'd known, I would've done things differently. I would've done it all right. I would've looked after our baby," he promised vehemently, sagging against Steve, clinging to him tightly. "I didn't even know I wanted a baby til I lost this one."

"Me either." Steve exhaled shakily, his own tears starting to fall. "You know where I ended up?"

"Aldis' place. He texted me." 

"After that. I ended up at the park. I was watching these kids play with their parents watching them and all I could think was one day that could be us with our kid. That's when I realised what a fuckin' jerk I'd been and I knew I had to come home an apologise." He cupped Christian's face in his hands, wiping away his tears with his thumbs. "I'm sorry I got drunk and that I wasn't there when you needed me. I was a selfish bastard. I'm sorry, Chris." 

"We'd be awesome parents," Christian whispered, leaning into Steve's touch, his eyes sliding closed. "Can we... I mean, do you want... to... to try again?" 

Steve nodded, his heart leaping to his throat, hammering hard. He kissed Christian softly. "Yes, fuck yes. More than anything, yes. I wanna have a kid with you, Chris. But..." Christian tensed and started to pull away but Steve held him tightly, fingers digging in to his upper arms. "We need to work through this."

Christian nodded reluctantly. "The counselling the hospital talked about." 

"Yeah. I know it sucks but I think it would be a good idea."

"It ain't gonna be easy." 

"No," Steve agreed. "But it'll be worth it." 

Christian leaned forward and kissed Steve. "You're worth it."

"We are worth it. Just... whatever happens... I'm here for you, Chris. I'm with you one hundred percent, I've got your back and I love you." 

A weak smile curled Christian's lips and he swiped at his tears, cheeks flushing slightly. "I love you too." 

* * *

A few months later.

Christian stirred, muttering sleepily as Steve climbed into bed behind him. "S'late."

"I know," Steve slid close to Christian, tucking up behind him. He pressed a kiss to Christian's shoulder, one arm wrapping around his waist to tug him backwards. "I'm sorry. Go back to sleep, sweetheart." 

"Mmmm..." Christian arched and stretched out against Steve. "Got something I need to tell you."

"It can wait. Sleep." 

Christian chuckled softly and tangled his fingers with Steve's. "You sure about that?" he asked, sliding their hands down to rest against the barely noticeable swell his belly; grinning when Steve realised what he was saying, breath catching in his chest. He held their hands there for a moment longer before rolling over and pressing against Steve, kissing him.

~el fin~


End file.
